


The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

by billiethepoet



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:36:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9835076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billiethepoet/pseuds/billiethepoet
Summary: Greg learns how John and Molly have been managing their grief, guilt, and anger after Sherlock's death.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [chucksauce](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chucksauce/pseuds/chucksauce) for the tag and prompt of "stuck in the middle". I took that prompt to be more thematic than literal, despite the threesome. 
> 
> Big thanks to [Burning_Up_A_Sun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/profile) for the fast and very helpful beta read.

He’s had four pints, which is two more than he usually has on a night out with the mates, but he’s not so far gone that he’s hallucinating. He hasn’t gotten that old and stodgy already, right? 

But no. John’s hand is definitely resting on Molly’s thigh. His fingers are definitely moving in little circles over the seam of her jeans. Molly drops her head to John’s shoulder and kisses his jaw. Why hadn’t he noticed how closely they were sitting? 

Greg tosses back the last dregs of his beer. It’s time for him to go home. Either because his friends are about to get off on the sofa or because he’s hallucinating. It’s not sure which he prefers really. 

He stands, not sure if he should say goodnight or just slip out since John has tipped his head back and Molly’s kisses are moving across his throat. It’s an awkward few seconds while he watches, trying to decide what to do but, if he’s honest with himself, mostly just watching. 

Molly’s mouth goes from pink to red so quickly. 

Christ, Greg needs to go. He turns on his heel, almost forgets to grab his jacket from the back of the chair, and takes a step toward the door before the sound of John’s voice stops him. 

“Sorry, Greg. Didn’t mean to get going there.” Molly giggles and John doesn’t sound sorry at all. “You could stay, you know.” 

Greg’s only half turned toward the door but he’s been politely keeping his eyes averted. Politely and for his own sanity. Seeing them together is unexpected and a little too much. He turns back to them to see that Molly has draped her leg over John’s lap. Or John has pulled it there. Either way, that small shift in position is one of the hottest things Greg has seen in a long time. 

What are they asking him to stay for? 

Sherlock, if he were here, the bloody wanker, would know. But if Sherlock were here, the three of them wouldn’t be here. Here in the sense of having a mates’ night out, drinking a couple of pints, and heading back to one of theirs to… to spend more time together, Greg had thought. But maybe they were here to do something else. 

Greg really hopes this isn’t the four pints talking. Either his or whatever Molly and John had consumed. He hadn’t been keeping track of their drinks, but everyone seemed sober enough on the walk to Molly’s flat. A bit tipsy but nothing out of line. This was a wake after all. A prolonged wake they’d be doing in bits and pieces in the months since Sherlock stepped off Bart’s roof. It was too hard a thing to do all at once. 

That’s what their “mates go to the pub” nights were suppose to be about. Getting over the loss of a great man they had all loved. Loved in ways they couldn’t really express out loud, maybe couldn’t even be honest about themselves. 

Sometimes, when Greg closes his eyes, he still sees Sherlock as the too-skinny drug addict that used to show up and harass him at crime scenes. Long-limbed, wide-eyed, and always fucking right. He had been a supernova. 

Sometimes, Greg just sees his body on Molly’s slab and hears the great gulps of breath John had to take to keep from sobbing. Fuck him for doing this to them anyway. 

Greg sits back down, in the chair opposite the sofa where Molly has all but crawled into John’s lap, and the two of them are kissing full on the lips, tongues in play. They move together, anticipate each other, in a way that’s familiar. This isn’t the first time they’ve done this together, Greg realizes. 

Maybe this is grief too. Or at least a part of it. He wonders what Sherlock would say about the human urge to find connection in suffering and how it leads people astray. Then he’s suddenly very angry that he still looks to an invisible Sherlock for validation. Sherlock’s dead, he’s here with two people he’s quite fond of, and maybe they can find some comfort. No need to overthink it. 

John and Molly must agree, or have already come to some arrangement themselves, because Molly tugs her jumper up and over her head and tosses it to the floor. 

John immediately reaches for her breast. They’re small and almost entirely disappear into his palm as he curls a hand around one. He presses, flattening his palm to her chest. Molly arches her back, rubbing herself against John’s hand, and lets out a little sigh. 

Maybe Greg’s just supposed to stay to watch? Would it be rude if he shifted the chair a bit for a better view then? 

Just as he’s thinking about shifting the chair anyway, Molly leans back a bit and beckons him forward. “You can come over here.” He must look more reluctant than he feels, because Molly turns a bit pink in the cheeks and looks away, but she keeps talking. “I read you’re supposed to talk about this sort of thing first but we didn’t know if you’d agree, so we thought showing you would be better. And John and I talked a bit but...we thought we could just work it out as we went...” She shrugs a bit at the end as her voice trails off. 

Somehow Greg has gotten to his mid-forties to be divorced, no kids, but with a decent career and two emotionally unsteady and unlikely best mates who are offering him something. Offering him themselves, in a way. And they all still have the spectre of a dead man hanging over their heads. 

He’ll try to forget about that bit tonight. 

“Yeah.” His voice cracks a little and he clears his throat to start over. “Yeah, that sounds good. We can work it out as we go.” 

His legs shake slightly in the three steps it takes to cross from his chair to the sofa. John pulls Molly fully into his lap, so she is straddling him with a knee on either side of his hips, to make room for Greg next to him. Greg deliberately sits close enough so that his leg brushes John’s. They’ll work it out as they go, sure, but Greg wants John to know that that’s on the table as well. 

John’s calf pushes back so maybe that’s worked out already. 

Molly leans over, John grabs at her hips to steady her, and she takes Greg’s face in her hands. She kisses him so sweetly it feels almost out of place with what Greg is assuming is going to happen here tonight. He puts his hands around her middle, just above John’s. It’s been awhile since he’s felt skin-on-skin like this. 

They keep kissing and it goes from sweet to sweet-and-hot to sweet-and-a-bit-dirty when Molly bites at his lip. 

“God, that’s gorgeous.” Greg hears John whisper next to them. 

Molly gives him another little nip and pulls back with a giggle. She rocks her hips in John’s lap and Greg realizes John has dropped one of his hands to cup her arse and encourage her along. 

“I can tell you liked that,” she says to John with another slow roll of her hips. 

John laughs. “Of course I bloody well liked it. You’re both gorgeous, and it was hot as hell.” 

The banter isn’t that different from how they talk at the pub, or in the morgue, or at a crime scene really. The words are different, the content more charged, but the tone and pace feel familiar enough to make Greg feel unsteady. He should know how to talk to them like this, but it’s too strange to try to do while Molly is grinding on John’s lap and his lips are wet from kissing her. 

And they’re all still wearing their clothes. Most of them anyway, in Molly’s case. 

Would it be easier or harder if they weren’t wearing their clothes? 

John’s leg bumps his and pulls him back to the moment. “All right Greg?” Again, it’s companionable and normal and so, so strange in this situation. 

Greg nods and lets his thumbs rub up and down across Molly’s stomach. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

John grins at him and leans in to kiss Molly again. She keeps rolling her hips against John, and Greg tightens his grip on her waist so that he can feel that push and pull of bodies moving together. He’s still not quite sure what his participation in this is going to be, so even if this is all it is he’s glad for it. 

Molly leans back with a grin and kisses him again. He can taste John on her mouth. He’s so, so glad for all this. The awkwardness is fading, as much as it’s going to he thinks, and being replaced with a light, giddy feeling in his chest. 

He likes Molly. He likes John. And they want him here. That’s more than enough for him. Time to stop second guessing himself. It’s been awhile but the missus always liked when he was assertive. 

He slides one hand up to Molly’s breast and pinches her nipple through the lacy fabric of her bra. 

She moans against his tongue so he does it again, trying to find the level of pressure that’s just on the right side of too much. 

John moves next to him, and Greg opens his eyes to see John lower the shoulder of Molly’s bra and expose her other breast. John’s lips close over the small peak of her nipple and Greg’s not sure what he’s doing but Molly’s whimpers and moans definitely pick up the pace. 

She breaks away, breathless. “Oh, the pair of you.” Her hair is mussed, and Greg’s not sure who did that, her lips are red, and her breast is wet with John’s salvia. Greg’s cock is more than interested in a debauched looking Molly, it turns out. 

One of John’s hands slides along the outside of Greg’s thigh, then curls inward so that John’s fingertips rest close to his balls. Greg shifts a bit but there’s no graceful way to wiggle your way into a hand on your sack other than just picking it up and putting it there yourself. He’s almost ready to do that. Almost desperate enough to do that. 

“This all right?” John asks, leaning closer. 

He’s not sure what was really between Sherlock and John. He’d heard John deny it often enough but he’s also seen John’s depression and anger since Sherlock’s death. Maybe this is grief, maybe it’s unhealthy, but it’s what they have. And Greg would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested. Sherlock would call him an idiot for letting this opportunity pass him by. 

Instead, he leans in and brings his lips to John’s. Their teeth clash a bit but John’s hand makes its way over to cup his balls and where the head of his cock is pressing against his zip. It’s been even longer since he’s done this with a bloke but it’s probably like riding a bicycle. Greg almost laughs at the “riding” bit as it whizzes through his brain, chased away by how the heel of John’s hand lifts his sack up just a nudge inside his trousers. 

He feels Molly rise off John’s lap but now he’s well and truly too desperate to care what the third party is doing at the moment. He stays focused on John’s tongue moving inside his mouth and the best way to work his own arm under John’s so he can get a handful of John’s cock. He’s heard enough about it in oblique brags and pub talk to want to get a grip on it himself. 

When he finally gets his arm worked round the right way, that grip does not disappoint. John is hard and heavy through his jeans. Greg wants to get his mouth around that cock. 

Molly clears her throat and they break apart to look at her. While they’ve been snogging and palming at each other through their clothes like teenagers, she’s stripped down to just her knickers. There’s a flush from her cheeks halfway down her chest and her nipples look plump and delicious. Greg can see the shadow of hair underneath the thin, pink material of her knickers and he can add that to the list of places he wants to get his mouth before the night is over. 

“Now who’s the gorgeous ones, huh?” Molly smiles and steps to stand between them. She lowers a knee to the sofa in the small space between them. “Budge over.” 

Greg squeezes John’s bulge one more time before John slides away, just to let him know that Greg’s not done with him yet. 

Molly insinuates herself on the couch, on her knees, between them. She’s facing Greg and her hand takes over where John’s left off. 

“I think you should take these off,” she says and her fingers are already working at the zip. 

Greg lifts his hips so Molly can work his trousers off. He gets the top couple of buttons of his shirt open before just whipping it over his head. He’s never understood why men keep their shirts on in porn. They just end up holding them out of the way half the time, and looking stupid the entire time. Yeah, he’s got a few years on Molly and even a couple on John but he’s got nothing to be ashamed of. 

Molly seems to agree. She runs her hand down his chest, scratches her nails through the line of hair that gathers and grows thicker as it leads down to his cock. She lets her hand trail all the way down, and gives him one solid stroke from root to tip before leaning over and closing her lips around his head. He’s not totally hard yet, but this will get him there in no time. 

She sucks and licks at his head for a moment before sliding down to take most of his shaft in her mouth. She doesn’t reach all the way to the bottom, but instead closes her hand around the base of Greg’s cock. 

Molly sucks and slides and jacks his cock with her hand in smooth motions. It feels incredible and Greg tries not to buck his hips up to meet her. He can feel sweat breaking out along his forehead and he clenches his hands in the whatever sofa cushion he can grab. 

From this angle, all he can really see is the back of Molly’s head as it moves, but he’s never been much of a visual man anyway. Instead he looks over her back to where John sits on the opposite end of the sofa. John’s also stripped down to nothing while Greg was getting his cock sucked. He’s turned a bit to face them and his hands are running up and down Molly’s sides, across her arse, sliding under the elastic band at the leg of her knickers. 

John looks at him and must realize how much he’s trying to hold back. “Go ahead. She likes it a little rough.” 

Molly groans around his cock and sucks harder. 

“Jesus Christ,” Greg mutters. He lays a hand on the back of her head, as gently as he can, and raises his hips up as she brings her mouth down. She sucks her way back up and spends some time rolling her tongue around the head of his cock. It feels like a reward, so on her next bob down his shaft, Greg thrusts a little harder and tightens his grip in her hair. 

She moans around him. 

Thank God for the four pints or he might have been done so quickly it would have been embarrassing. 

Greg keeps his thrusts even and steady. He doesn’t want to do too much. 

Molly starts rocking back and forth between him and John. Her moans and whimpers are getting louder even with his cock in her mouth. 

He glances back to John, who has pulled Molly’s knickers down around her thighs. He’s got one hand squeezing her arse and the other is tucked behind Molly’s body in a way that Greg can’t see. He can’t see but he can imagine John’s thick, tapered fingers fucking Molly open. Rubbing against her clit, making her make these sounds around Greg’s cock. He’s sure that’s what John’s doing. 

John presses open mouthed kisses against the small of her back as he makes her squirm. 

Molly manages a few more passes up and down Greg’s cock while she rocks back on John’s hand. Eventually she pulls away, eyes closed and panting. Greg smoothes her hair back from her face and John stills his movements. 

She takes a deep breath before she speaks. “John, condoms?” 

John practically jumps from the sofa and strides across the sitting room and into what Greg assumes is Molly’s bedroom. They must be fucking regularly for John to know exactly where to go to get the condoms. Greg suddenly wishes he had been here for more of these nights. 

Molly sits up next to him and tosses her knickers to the floor. John comes back with an open box of condoms. Greg can’t tell how many are in there but he’s hoping for at least a handful. That may be optimistic of him, but a man can dream. 

John shakes one out into Molly’s open palm. 

She holds it out to Greg. “I’d like you, um, first, if we can.” 

_We sure as fuck can,_ Greg thinks. He rips open the package and rolls the condom on, desperate not to screw it up. He and his wife hadn’t used them in ages. It’s been probably twenty years since he’s worn one. He gets it in place and strokes himself up and down twice under Molly’s watchful eye. 

She straddles him, but backwards. Watching her lovely, pert little arse come toward his cock is mesmerizing. She raises up on her knees a bit and leans forward to get the angle right. John has settled on his knees in front of them. He reaches between them to steady Greg’s cock and help Molly lower herself onto Greg’s cock. 

Molly is dripping and hot from where John had fingered her cunt and Greg slides in easily. It’s tight and Molly settles all the way back until her arse is sitting in his lap. He’s deep and hard inside her, and it feel amazing. His hands settle on her hips automatically. She’s not moving yet, which is fine, but Greg hopes to Christ she moves soon. 

It takes a moment but she does start to move. She lifts herself up and if Greg leans back as far as the sofa will let him, he can see his cock slide back into her cunt. The pace is slow and every time she takes him deep enough that she ends up wiggling her arse against his belly. 

Slowly, one of Greg’s hands climb to cup and pinch at her breasts. John’s still kneeling in front of them, mumbling encouragement and watching Molly ride Greg’s cock. He wishes he had the same view but knowing John is watching them so closely is incredibly hot. 

It’s not long before Greg sees John’s hands slide up Molly’s thighs. One of his hands rests close enough to where Greg’s hand still sits on Molly’s hip that Greg can stretch a bit and brush their fingertips together. 

John leans forward and Greg can only see the crown of his golden head around the curve of Molly’s hip. But he can feel what John’s doing. It’s just hot breath against his balls at first, but when Molly rocks back and is fully seated on his cock, she stays there and Greg can feel John’s chin bump against the base of his cock. 

John’s licking her clit while she grinds herself down on Greg. It’s just a pause in her rhythm the first few times, just enough for John to lick her a bit then pull back while she rises up again. She picks up speed, riding Greg faster and coming down on him harder. John moves more frantically against them, even ducking down to suck Greg’s balls one at a time into his mouth while Molly rides him. 

Greg wishes he could reach a hand all the way around to John’s head and hold him against Molly’s cunt until she comes with John’s mouth on her and Greg inside her. 

From the sound of Molly’s moans, they’re getting close to that anyway. 

She’s starting to linger while she has Greg’s cock all the way inside her and John’s mouth works against her clit. So Greg rocks up a bit, just to give more friction to both of them but not to knock John out of the way. Molly lets out a low, guttural noise from her throat and arches her back. She leans so far back that Greg can press his face to the side of her neck. 

John sits back on his heels and presses the heel of his hand to Molly’s clit. “Christ, she’s close Greg. Fuck her.” 

That sends a bolt of pure lust all the way to Greg’s balls. He pushes his open mouth against the side of her neck in the closet thing he can get to a kiss at the moment and leaves it there. His hands come up to cup both her breasts, his fingers plucking at her nipples. It must be an incredible view John has. 

But he can’t keep his hands here and fuck her like he needs to. Instead, he gives one final tweak to each nipple and drops his hands to her waist. He lifts her up a few inches before bringing her back down and thrusting his hips up. 

Molly lets out a surprised sound so he does it again. Greg can feel John’s hand moving against them so he knows John is still working at Molly’s clit. 

He moves Molly’s body and thrusts his hips again and again, getting faster as Molly starts letting out a string of “oh God, oh God, oh God”. 

He’s not going to be able to hold out much longer. Her arse bouncing against him, John’s fingers sweeping down over the base of his cock and cupping his sack high and tight to Molly’s cunt while she grinds down on him is too much. 

Not to mention that Molly is starting to clench around him. 

Nope, he needs this to be over now. If Molly doesn’t finish, he and John can take care of her in other ways. 

Greg starts fucking her harder. He knows he has six, maybe seven of his hardest thrusts and grinds in him. His teeth set against Molly’s shoulder but he doesn’t bite. 

On thrust four, Molly starts to come. She’s practically screaming and John kisses her to keep from startling the neighbors. Her cunt clamps down so tightly that Greg only gets about halfway through thrust five before he’s coming, filling the condom and crying out in surprise. 

Molly leans forward, resting her head on John’s shoulder and breathing heavily. Greg leans back, his chest slick with sweat from both him and Molly. His cock still throbs a bit inside her. 

They all take a deep, shaky breath before John helps Molly rise from Greg’s lap. He’s wilted to half-mast and the inside of the condom is a mess. He pulls it off and ties it neatly before dropping it to the floor. Now’s not the time to find a trash can. 

Molly collapses in the opposite corner of the sofa. John still stands in front of him, cock hard and leaking. 

“I need a minute, John,” Molly says with a shaky voice. 

This is Greg’s chance to make good on what he was fantasizing about when they all still had their clothes on. And fuck if that doesn’t feel like a million years ago. 

“Come here, I’ll keep you busy.” 

John turns to him and takes a step cock first and Greg is reminded of all the times he’s watched John Watson swagger into a room. His mouth waters. 

Their positions on the sofa make this difficult and Greg figures his best option is to slip to his knees in front of John. If they were in bed, Greg would lie down, stretch himself out indulgently and let John fuck his face from above. _Maybe next time,_ Greg thinks with a thrill going down his spine. Next time he jerks himself off in the shower at the very least. 

Instead, he falls to his knees and wraps his hand around the base of John’s cock. It’s thicker and longer than his but rather than feeling jealous, Greg can’t wait to get it in his mouth. To watch John fuck Molly with it. 

He starts slow, running his tongue around the head and licking up all the precome there. 

John’s hands rest on his shoulders while he slides his mouth down the underside of John’s cock, tongue dragging along to leave a wet trail. He pulls back to start at the top again but this time he closes his lips around the tip of John’s cock and sucks hard enough to hollow his cheeks. He keeps that suction as he slides down John’s shaft. He stops just a hair’s breadth away from gagging. 

“God Greg. You’re good at this. Jesus Christ.” John babbles as Greg sucks, and that makes Greg terribly proud of himself. 

Soon, he feels Molly kiss the back of his neck. He pops off John’s cock for a moment to smile at her over his shoulder. She’s shuffled around on the sofa so she’s lying behind them, watching them closely. 

When he turns back to John, he looks up at him and decides to be brave. He takes one of John’s hands from his shoulder and wraps it around the back of his head. “I like it a bit rough too.” 

John curses in a low growl that makes Greg’s cock twitch. It’s not going to show enough interest again tonight to be useful, but it really would like to. He wraps his lips around the head of John’s cock and waits. The weight of John’s cock against his tongue is heavy. His breath rasps out through his nose as his lips are stretched wide around John. He smells and tastes the musky flavor of John’s cock at the same time. He basks in it. 

It’s only a moment before John is gripping his head in both hands and sliding in and out of his mouth. He’s slow and polite but definitely still taking what he wants. Greg grabs his hips in encouragement. 

Greg uses his tongue to stroke and his mouth to suck while John fucks his face. It’s delightful to let go and just be used. Just be used a little bit by someone he trusts. 

John pulls out, and Greg realizes he’s closed his eyes at some point. He blinks them open to see John, standing above him stroking his hard cock right in Greg’s face. For one blissful moment, Greg thinks John’s about to come on his face. He nearly opens his mouth and hangs his tongue out to catch whatever John will give him. 

Instead, John looks past him to where Molly sits on the sofa. “You ready for me, Molly?” 

Greg looks back over his shoulder. Molly has stretched out behind him and one hand plays with her breast while the other dips between her legs. She nods eagerly at John and spreads her legs wider. 

John bends to give Greg a deep kiss, tongue caressing his and nipping at Greg’s bottom lip before he pulls away. He rips open a new condom, slides it on his cock, and settles over Molly. Her knees lock around his ribs. 

John fucks her slow and steady. It’s an old, comfortable rhythm they both seem to know well. Greg sits on the floor and leans against the sofa near Molly’s head. He’s in awe of how John’s shoulders bunch and strain as he rocks into Molly, and how Molly’s stomach flexes as she rises to meet John. They’re beautiful together. 

Greg can’t help but simply watch. He turns Molly’s face toward him and kisses her. He tries his best to match the thrusts of his tongue to the movement of John’s hips. He gets his hand between John and Molly’s bodies to cup her breast and rub his thumb over her nipple again. It’s a shame he didn’t get to suck on her breasts. Another item for his _maybe next time_ list. 

John’s muttering curses and thrusting hard enough to make Molly bounce a little. Greg pulls back to look at John. His face is covered in a sheen of sweat and his mouth hangs open just a bit. Greg reaches up and pushes his thumb between John’s lips. 

John closes around Greg’s thumb and moans. His tongue flicks across Greg’s skin and he sucks and he fucks Molly’s cunt. 

“Oh, God, that’s lovely. John, you look so good with something in your mouth.” She’s rolling her body under John’s now, straining with him and panting. 

Greg suddenly thinks of all the time in uni he spent fantasizing and trying to get himself in this exact situation. If he could go back and tell his 19 year old self to wait nearly 30 fucking years for a damaged ex-army doctor and an adorably morbid pathologist… well, he’d never have believed it. Or had the patience at 19 to wait for it. 

John turns his head, forcing Greg’s thumb from his mouth. “Molly. Greg,” he pants.

“Yes, come on. Come on John.” Molly works a hand between herself and John, and Greg can only assume she’s working her clit again. “You can come for me.”

John thrusts a few more times, each time grinding against Molly before pulling back out and going again. On the last thrust, his eyes close and his face scrunches in the almost-pain of release. 

“Nearly there, nearly there John. Just… just…” Molly’s still working her fingers between them when John goes still, coming inside her. There’s not much Greg can do except talk to her; she seems to like the talk. 

Greg presses his mouth right against her ear. “You’re so sexy Molly. Come all over John’s cock for me. He did such a good job fucking you. I want to see what it looks like when you come with him inside you.” 

John’s hard cock inside her, likely still coming based on his expression, her own fingers flicking across her clit, and Greg’s voice in her ear are enough. She bucks and screams a bit. Her face contorts the same way John’s did. 

Greg’s not sure what his face looked like when he came, releasing come and stress and affection all at once with Molly gripping him tight and John touching him. But it probably looked like this. This is grief and pain and they’re all mired in it thanks to Sherlock fucking Holmes. 

Who knows how long they will be stuck here, somewhere between what they felt for Sherlock but could never say and the guilt they feel every time the think of him stepping off a roof. They all loved him and wanted him in some kind of secret way. That secret compounded by grief eats Greg from the inside every day, and the rawness he sees in John and Molly in this moment tells him they suffer the same way. 

John collapses on top of Molly. “Jesus, you two. That was incredible.” John kisses Molly deeply, soothingly. He turns to Greg, shifts his weight a bit, and does the same. 

They pull apart and clean up in silence. John walks around the flat naked to get the towels and throw both condoms away. Molly gets them one big glass of water to share. Greg just stares, dumbfounded at the turn “mates night out” took. 

They put their clothes back on, and he and John silently agree it’s time to go. 

Molly walks them to the door. “We should do this again sometimes. The pints and… this bit again.” She blushes as she holds the door open for them. 

Greg knows it’s for his benefit. He wouldn’t be surprised if John is back here tomorrow, bending Molly over the chair he sat in when this first started. 

“Yeah, we should do this again. Maybe make it a weekly thing,” Greg says. 

They all nod in agreement. And with genuine, but a little bit sad too, smiles on their faces they’ve scheduled weekly threesomes in a desperate attempt to forget and to feel. To keep grief at bay with pleasure. 

Molly closes the door and John and Greg go their separate ways home. And fuck Sherlock Holmes for doing this to them anyway.


End file.
